ssistance to the honest and industrious among you--but to them
only--as I trust may make us better pleased with each other than we have
been.--Do not you go, M'Evoy, until I speak to you."

During these observations Carson sat with a smile, or rather a sneer
upon his lips. It was the sneer of a purse-proud villain confident that
his wealth, no matter how ill-gotten, was still wealth, and worth its
value.

"Colonel," said he, "I have heard all you said, but you see me 'so
strong in honesty,' that I am not moved. In the course of a few weeks
I shall have purchased an estate of my own, which I shall manage
differently, for my fortune is made, sir. I intend also to give up my
other agencies: I am rather old and must retire to enjoy a little of the
_otium cum dignitate_. I wish you all goo'd-morning!"

The Colonel turned away in abhorrence, but disdained any reply.

"A say, Sam," said the Presbyterian, "bring your son-in-laa wuth you."

"An' I say that, too," exclaimed the drunken ruffian--"A say that; A do.
A'm married to his daughter; an' A say stull, that d------my blood, bit
A'll stick to my father-in-laa! That's the point!"--and again he nodded
his head, and looked round him with a drunken swagger:--"A'll stick to my
father-in-laa! A'll do that; feth, A wull!"*

* This dialect is local.

It is scarcely necessary to inform the reader, that the Colonel's
address to Carson soon got among the assembled tenantry, and a vehement
volley of groans and hisses followed the discarded agent up the street.

"Ha! bad luck to you for an ould villain. You were made to hear on the
deaf side o' your head at last! You may take the black wool out o' your
ears now, you rip! The cries an' curses o' the widows an' orphans that
you made and oppressed, has ris up agin you at the long run! Ha! you
beggarly nager! maybe you'll make us neglect our own work to do yours
agin! Go an' gather the dhry cow-cakes, you misert, an' bring them home
in your pocket, to throw on the dunghill!"

"Do you remimber the day," said others, "you met Mr. M., an' you goin'
up the street wid a cake of it in your fists, undher your shabby skirts;
an' whin the gintlemen wint to shake hands wid you, how he discovered
your maneness? Three groans for Yallow Sam, the extortioner! a short
coorse to him! Your corner's warm for you, you villain!"

"But now, boys, for the Colonel!" they exclaimed.--"Huzza for noble
Colonel B------ the rale Irish gintlemen, that wou